and then held an indignant discussion as to the truth of
what she had said. It would have been a discussion, I mean, if they had
not both taken the same side of the question.

"How she sighed," said Susy, "just as if she was the _melancholiest_
person that ever was!" Susy was famous for the use she made of
adjectives, forming the superlatives just as it happened.

"Yes, just the way," responded Flossy. "I'd like to know what ever
happened to _her_? Pshaw! She laughed this afternoon, and ate apples
fast enough!"

"O, she thinks she must make believe have a dreadful time, because she
is grown up," said Susy, scornfully. "She's forgot she was ever a little
girl! I've had troubles; I guess I have! And I know one thing, I shall
remember 'em when I grow up, and not say, 'What happy little things!'
to children. It's real hateful!"

Little folks have trouble, to be sure. Their hearts are full of it, and
running over, sometimes; and how can the largest heart that ever beat be
_more_ than full, and running over?

Susy had daily trials. They were sent to her because they were good for
her. Shadows and night-dews are good for flowers. If the sun had shone
on Susy always, and she had never had any shadows and night dews, she
would have _scorched up_ into a selfish girl.

One of her trials was Miss Dotty Dimple. Now, she loved Dotty dearly,
and considered her funny all over, from the crown of her head to the
soles of her little twinkling feet, which were squeezed into a pair of
gaiters. Dotty loved those gaiters as if they were alive. She had a
great contempt for the slippers she wore in the morning, but it was her
"darlin' gaiters," which she put on in the afternoon, and loved next to
father and mother, and all her best friends.

When ladies called, she stepped very briskly across the floor, looking
down at her feet, and tiptoeing about, till the ladies smiled, and said,
"O, what sweet little boots!" and then she was perfectly happy.

Susy was not very wide awake in the morning; but Dotty was stirring as
soon as there was a peep of light, and usually stole into Susy's bed to
have a frolic. Nothing but a story would keep her still, and poor Susy
often wondered which was harder, to be used as a football by Dotty, or
to tell stories with her eyes shut.

"O, Dotty Dimple, keep still; can't you? There's a darling," she would
plead, longing for another nap; "_don't_ kill me."

"No, no; me won't kill," the little one would reply